Letters For You: November 30, 2013

Lately I've been trying to remember what it was like to be your age. Of course I don't actually know how old you'll be when we meet, but my mother's intuition tells me somewhere between the ages of five and seven. Such a sweet age. No longer a baby, but not yet grown.

When I was five, I loved to chase bunnies around our back yard. When I wasn't chasing bunnies, I was trying to touch the sky with my toes while swinging high. At six I loved to make forts. I would drape a blanket over a chair and climb inside where I felt cozy and safe. At seven I set off on my bicycle, cruising around town for hours on end. Every day felt like an adventure. Sometimes I'd put a stuffed animal in my front basket to keep me company on my ride. To this day I can still feel the wind on my face as I sailed down the hill behind Fairview School, feet off the pedals and giggling from the rush of it all. Afterwards, I'd park my bike and lay on my back in the grass with my eyes to the sky. I could lay for hours watching the cloud shapes dancing in slow motion.

When I think of these memories, it reminds me that you, too, have a childhood that needs to be played out. But it also reminds me that you are already shaping into your own little person. A person who has probably put your eyes to the sky many times yourself while trying to make sense of the world around you. A person who has ideas and secrets and dreams. A person I can't wait to get to know. 

Let's just hope you have a better sense of fashion than I did at your age.